


the ultimate double dare

by persephassax



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exes, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Hux runs the First Order, Kylo Ren is an idiot, Kylo Ren is more of a figurehead, M/M, Soft Kylux, Sort Of, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, this is very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephassax/pseuds/persephassax
Summary: Kylo Ren needs to talk to Hux about the state of their interpersonal relationship, it is a matter that concerns the order of  succession of their organization. Hux wants to hear none of it, so Kylo does his best to get through to him.It does not go well.Featuring Kylo Ren's mediocre people skills, Hux's perfected frigid bitch attitude, and inappropriate places to talk about your relationship on a star destroyer.





	the ultimate double dare

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at being _funny_ , like, with actual jokes and stuff. 
> 
> The title comes from A Softer World 1068, and if you want spoilers you can look it up and learn something about our boys here. 
> 
> Thanks to [@sluthuxx](http://sluthuxx.tumblr.com/) for the beta and for telling me to scrap my original ending and write a new one.

Kylo Ren is not looking forward to this meeting. In fact, he's been putting this meeting off since he realized he would have to have it. But he can't, really, put it off any longer. If he does, it will undoubtedly bite him in the ass, possibly in the form of a coup or the kind of scuttlebutt among the officers that leads to never being able to show your face again (but he supposes, thinking of his now-busted mask, he has practice with that, it might not be so bad).

No, he decided that he would deal with this today and, as is befitting a man of his station, he will absolutely do so. His finger hovers over the commlink button, maybe he can rescind the order and—

At that moment, the door to the office he has commandeered as his own on the _Supremacy_ opens to reveal General Hux with a truly impressive glower darkening his features.

“General, just the man I was hoping to see,” he only gets that far before Hux cuts him off.

“I should hope so, Ren, given that you summoned me here,” his voice is caustic, and Kylo sighs, aware that this was never going to go as smoothly as he’d somehow still been hoping it would.

“That’s _Supreme Leader_ ,” he corrects, unable to let the chance to correct Hux on his proper title slip away.

“Oh, I'm sorry, _your Lordship_ ,” Hux replies with a sneer and twitch that somehow expresses, without words, that Hux would be rolling his eyes back into his own head with disgust if he didn’t have such a perfect control over his facial expressions. He also, astoundingly, manages to make the deference he pours into the title _your Lordship_ transform it into something that sounds like _you slimy thing I found clinging to the bottom of my perfectly polished boot, on some planet whose climate I found so offensive I have decided to obliterate it from the star charts_. Kylo really needs to get Hux to explain to him how he does it. Is it in the tone of voice? The set of his mouth?

“Well,” he starts, realizing that this has already gone remarkably poorly, and they’ve only been in the same room for about a minute and a half.

Maybe they should have done this over comms?

Kylo hasn't actually spoken directly to Hux since their kerfuffle in the Snoke’s throne room and whatever they shouted at each other during the disaster on Crait that followed. Mostly, if he needs to inform Hux of something or learn something from him about the operations of the First Order, he communicates with one of Hux’s underlings. (He hasn't spoken that much to them either, because they kind of scare him. They're so clinical and competent, and passionately devoted to their General and have, accordingly, been treating him with the maximum of their chilly indifference. Now that he’s thinking about it, some of them have mastered the art of saying one thing with their mouths and something else with their faces or whatever. Maybe Hux teaches classes on it?)

“ _Supreme Leader,_ ” and there it is again _slime not long for this world_ instead of his title. “Some of us are actually necessary for the continued existence of the First Order.”

Kylo decides that discretion is the better part of valor in this instance and doesn't rise to the bait. To be honest, he's not entirely sure that Hux isn’t just hoping for the right kind of opening to kill him. Given the nature of his own ascension, he can say with some confidence that it's what he would do. So it's probably best to tread lightly where his General is concerned. Although, there might be something in _that_ he can use.

“I think it's high time your commitment and vitality to the Order are acknowledged,” Kylo says. Hux’s eyes narrow in suspicion. He shakes his right forearm slightly, the one that Kylo knows hides his dagger, undoubtedly loosening it, and Kylo wonders at how far things have soured between them, that Hux thinks it possible that Kylo would follow an opening like that with an assassination. That sort of mind game was more Snoke’s (and if they’re being honest, _Hux’s_ ) style. Kylo doesn't have the patience or the calm to pull it off. If he's going to kill someone, he’ll kill them, plain and simple.

“Is that so?” Hux’s voice has taken on that silky tone which lets Kylo know that his mind is working very quickly, trying to figure out the end game and how best to twist things to his advantage. Kylo smirks, because he knows that Hux will never anticipate his actual play.

“How about a title in accordance with your station, Grand Marshal?”

Kylo isn't entirely sure how he keeps himself from laughing at what Hux’s face does in response. He goes completely pale and then flushes a deep red, almost purple — a color which clashes horribly with his hair —  where his neck disappears into his collar. His whole face sort of convulses, trying to express shock at the proposal, outrage at the presumed mockery, and some jubilant avarice at the culmination of one of his greatest desires, before finally settling on a sneer whose effect is entirely undercut by the complete loss of control of his facial muscles that preceded it.

“While I’m certain that the—,” Hux pauses, sucking on his teeth quickly while he tries to think of the best word to use, and Kylo brings a hand up to cover the lower half of his face, because he can’t suppress his own smirk, “— _elevation_ of my status confers the highest of honors...”

Here he stops again and swallows, possibly trying to remove the note of strain that has colored his voice so far. He continues, “I’m not certain it is in the best interests of the organization to have another shake up in the command structure so soon after your own—” at which point he cuts off again. Kylo can’t see it, but he can imagine the vein in his neck pulsing like some sort of ugly parasite beneath Hux’s collar.

Kylo straightens out his mouth into a more appropriate expression and drops his hand, spinning himself slightly in his chair until he’s no longer facing Hux completely.

“Well, suit yourself, Grand Marshal or _General_.”

He can’t see Hux’s face particularly well from this angle, but he can’t miss the nearly full body twitch the title causes, “You’ll be the one filling out the paperwork for the official change in designation. File it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

Kylo can practically hear Hux’s teeth grinding, and eventually there is the light _click-click_ of his boots against the floor and the _swish_ of the door opening and closing and Kylo is alone in his office once more.

He smiles to himself. Sure, they never actually managed to get to the issue he’d originally planned to discuss. But it’s been a while since he’s made Hux lose his cool like that through his own personal actions rather than merely existing as a thorn in the man’s side. He missed it.

 

* * *

 

It’s not as funny the next day and even less funny the day after, because the vague anxiety that this whole situation needs to be _dealt with_ doesn’t actually lessen at all. The problem is that Kylo has no idea how to get Hux into the room, much less how to talk to him about this, and even less of any idea of how to get him to _agree_.

Frankly, this whole thing is Snoke’s fault. Kylo shouldn’t even have to deal with any of this at all, if it weren’t for Snoke’s meddling and mind games. Nine years ago, it seemed like a wonderful and excellent plan, the perfect way to show his loyalty — and to get something he wanted, something purely for himself, though he did his best not to show that too much. But now, with everything that’s happened and how things have turned out, it’s nothing more than a headache.

The fact is that Kylo needs to straighten out Hux’s official status in the First Order command structure. It's not merely a question of General vs Grand Marshal, though Hux is more than welcome to whichever title he prefers. No, this is something much more _personal_.

It's made worse by the fact that they haven't acknowledged the bond between them at all in the last two years and only snidely and with great vitriol in the two years before that. At least then they had continued periodically as an unfriendly presence in each other’s beds. Snoke pushed them together, drove them apart, and then assigned Kylo to the _Finalizer_ as some kind of despicable reminder to the both of them that he could play them both like a child’s whistle.

Kylo wonders how much of the last few months, and longer, have been dictated by Snoke’s meddling in his personal affairs. Some of it was obvious, like the whole thing with Rey. Kylo feels vaguely guilty about everything that happened there. He just needed someone to agree to stand by his side. Kylo knows he can't do this by himself, he's never wanted to do it alone.

But he does have obligations, here on this ship, and it was remiss of him to go looking elsewhere for the support he should have solicited from within the Order in the first place.

But none of that helps him with figuring out how the stars he should go about soliciting that support now.

The anxiety eventually gets the best of him, which is how he finds himself outside the General’s quarters. He doesn’t really have a plan for what he’s going to say, but he feels like going into this with too much planning isn’t going to help him. Hux lives to foil other people’s plans. Kylo is certain that if he remains nimble in his thinking, he should be able to get around that aspect of his commander’s character. That’s what he has to believe if he’s going to get through this.

He knocks. He knows he could use his code to get in (or probably even make an educated guess at Hux’s door code, he used to skim over Hux’s thoughts every so often when he was putting in his identicodes on his pads and the like to try and put himself in a good spot for future guesses, and he never really got out of the habit). But the goal here is to get Hux to agree to go back to the way things were between them, once. Hux is a man of pride, and it doesn’t do any good to stomp all over that when trying to get him to agree to something.

The door slides open in front of him and he hears Hux’s voice call out a sharp, distracted, “Come in.”

That note of distraction, which is confirmed when Kylo sees Hux frowning at a pad on his desk, one hand propping up his head from the temple, his lips pursed in thought, means that Hux didn’t bother to check who was at the door. He won’t be expecting Kylo. Perfect.

“What do you want, Ren?” Hux asks without looking up.

“How did you know?” Kylo asks. This is unbelievable.

“An unexpected visitor arrives at my door at this hour, it wouldn’t be any of my officers—”

“Minions,” Kylo mutters.

“— _officers_ , because they know better than to bother me by showing their faces off shift unless the ship has had a _hole blown in it_. Also, you’re the only one who stomps that loudly when walking. Why you can’t move your body like a normal person is beyond me, truly, Ren.”

Hux hasn’t looked away from his pad during any of this, and in fact, is scrolling through the document still, like none of this requires any extra thought for him at all. Kylo is irritated that his General won’t give him his full attention, and also that Hux seems to be able to so flawlessly occupy himself with two tasks simultaneously. It simply shouldn’t be possible to be that biting while reading one of the mind numbing operations reports the officers of First Order produce. Kylo can barely keep his eyes open while he’s reading the reports Hux’s underlings send him, he has no idea how Hux can manage to maintain his laser focus, much less maintain his focus _and_ engage in scathing rhetoric. Kylo scowls a little to himself.

“Well, _General_ ,” Kylo starts.

“I think you’ll find that it’s _Grand Marshal_ now,” Hux interrupts him. Finally, he pulls his eyes away from the report he’s looking at to meet Kylo’s eyes. Lit from below by the blue light of the pad, his face looks even more pallid than usual and his eyes are washed out of their usual soft blue-green. To be honest, he looks kind of corpse-like, the re-animated dead, and it’s neither flattering nor particularly comfortable to look at.

Kylo sighs.

“Well, then, _Grand Marshal_ ,” he tries again. “I’m glad you decided to take the promotion, by the way. You deserve it.”

Hux raises one bushy ginger eyebrow at him, the _get to the point, Ren_ , completely silent, but entirely undeniable nonetheless.

“Hux, we need to talk,” Kylo says.

“On which particular matter do you believe my input to be necessary?” Hux’s tone is like the winds that blow on Hoth, except colder. “The fleet is running no poorer for your leadership— or lack thereof. My officers are completing their work in a satisfactory manner. You have yet to require my input in anything so far, _Supreme Leader_ ”—and this time he manages to make it sound like _you disgusting, impudent child,_ like Kylo had covered himself in food or something—“I see no reason why you should have a change of heart now.”

“We need to talk about _us,_ ” Kylo half shouts at him. He said he wouldn’t lose his cool. But the nimbleness of no plan seems to have deserted him. Hux has managed to run circles around him, again. And to think, Kylo wonders, he used to consider it _charming_ rather than _an enormous pain in the ass._

“I think you’ll find there is nothing to discuss,” Hux hisses at him. Kylo rolls his eyes and throws his hands into the air briefly before he turns on his heel and walks out. He’ll have to think of something else.

 

* * *

 

His next few attempts don’t go much better:

 

There is the time he corners Hux in the officer’s mess. He talks to him for the entirety of the meal, trying to convince him of the distinct advantage of re-envigorating their personal relationship, along with the professional honors it would confer. Hux doesn’t look up from his plate the entire time that Kylo is talking to him.

In fact, he says nothing, and gives no indication that he’s heard a _kriffing_ thing Kylo has said, but he takes the fact that Hux hasn't interrupted him to shut him down as a sign of progress. When Hux has finished with his dinner, he gets up, throws Kylo a pitying look along with a raised eyebrow and sweeps out of the room.

Kylo hopes he isn’t looking too longingly or wistfully after the Grand Marshal. It would be unbecoming for the Supreme Leader to appear to be pining for his top commander, but the more he tries to get things right between them, the more invested he gets in the outcome (as if he ever had a hope of not being invested in the outcome), and the harder it is to have Hux cut him off at the knees and then watch him walk away.

His rumination — not brooding, thank you very much — is interrupted by one of Hux’s underlings. It’s the pointy faced one with the dark hair that he slicks down in a passable imitation of Hux’s own style. Mishtika? Meetaku? Something like that. Kylo glares at him and watches the young man wilt slightly under his glower.

“Supreme Leader,” his voice is unexpectedly loud. Kylo remembers him being sort of tentative, and here he is practically yelling. “I thought you should know there was a minor hull fracture on one of the corridors to the bridge which lead to a slight pressure failure. Everyone who was on the bridge at the time, including the Grand Marshal, has been suffering from partial hearing loss. Medical has assured us it will pass, but I’m not sure the Grand Marshal heard anything you just told him.”

He sort of bobs as if he were trying to show some outward deference, and then scuttles away without waiting for a response. Kylo feels his face pull into a scowl. He doubts the Lieutenant would have been able to hear anything he said in response anyway. Just like Hux, who, it appears, had let him make an ass of himself for the entire duration of the meal, letting him talk while he was unable to hear a single one of Kylo’s exquisitely crafted, well thought out points.

Kylo barely resists the urge to put his head down on the table. Of _course_ Hux couldn’t hear a thing he said. How else would he have kept all his undoubtedly vicious and cutting commentary to himself?

Kylo has to remind himself that Hux cares far too much about the status of the ship to orchestrate a partial depressurization of the bridge for the exclusive purpose of losing his hearing just to spite him. Just to make sure, Kylo spends the rest of the afternoon reviewing the ships’ maintenance logs to double check that Hux hadn’t sent down any suspicious orders in the last few cycles.

* * *

 

Kylo can admit, with hindsight, that trying to talk to Hux about the state of affairs between them on the bridge might have been an error of judgement, on his part. Maybe. A bit.

Still, it didn’t have to become the fiasco it had. Honestly, if Hux would just _talk to him_ in the first place, it never would have gotten that bad.

Kylo knew that Hux would be taking his bridge shift in the morning. There wasn’t really anything for command to do at the bridge unless they were in a crisis, but Hux liked to make his presence known. It irritated the elder members of the command structure, like Captain Peevey, whose mind had contained more than one tirade about _young upstarts_ and _unnecessary posturing_ when Kylo had skimmed the surface thoughts of the bridge crew in the past. Kylo made a note to himself to review Peevey’s personnel file at the next opportunity. He wasn’t certain the First Order needed that kind of dissent in its ranks.

So he made a point of rising early enough that Hux would have finished his initial round of checking in with the bridge crew about the ship status but not so early that he would have embarked on some detailed project that could only be completed with access to the shipboard sensors or whatever. Kylo wasn't entirely sure what Hux _did_ when he was on the bridge other than stand there and look both pleased with himself and slightly menacing. But he had a pretty good recollection of the rhythm of what Hux’s bridge shifts looked like, and was fairly sure that they hadn't changed much in the intervening years, what with the Grand Marshal being a creature of strict routine.

So, a little over an hour into the shift cycle, he made his way to the bridge hoping to catch Hux in a lull and take the opportunity to speak to him. Hux was indeed in the “standing looking self-satisfied and menacing” portion of his bridge shift. He was on the walkway that ran down the middle of the bridge, surrounded by the sunken work stations of the crew. He was looking out the viewport at the expanse of stars and black that stretched before them, the Galaxy ripe for the taking. A few other members of the high command milled around as well, Captain Peevey was there with a sour expression on his face. Kylo scowled as his eyes caught on the man. Surely he couldn't be that necessary?

As he observed the scene before him, Hux accepted a pad from a crew member who had gotten up from their station, the two of them conferred over it briefly and the crewman went back to their console. Kylo knew he had to get in quick before Hux sunk into whatever problem or information had just been handed to him. Kylo took long confident strides to make up for his dallying, crew members looking up at the sound of his boots against the plastisteel of the bridge walkway. Hux didn’t turn or acknowledge the change in the atmosphere of the bridge at all. Kylo stifled the disappointment that threatened to pull his lower lip into a pout, Hux _had_ to be aware that he was here. Just a week ago, he’d complained that Kylo couldn’t move his body like a normal person and made too much noise. But then again, Kylo hadn’t seen him since the cabin depressurization incident, maybe his hearing still hadn’t returned? What if he had gone completely deaf? Did he not think it necessary to inform the head of the organization he claimed to love so dearly if there had been such a significant change in his health status?

Finally, he was standing next to the Grand Marshal. He could feel his blood running fast under his skin, anxiety turning hot and dangerous within him.

“Grand Marshal,” he said, trying to maintain an even tone.

“Oh, it’s you,” Hux said, looking up briefly to run his eyes up and down over Kylo’s person, seeming to find him wanting before dismissing him and returning to the pad he held in his hands.

“I see your hearing has returned,” Kylo said, bitterness baked into his tone.

“Yes, except for a faint, obnoxious buzzing, although that could just be you,” Hux said, without looking up.

“We still need to talk.”

Kylo saw Hux’s shoulders stiffen slightly under his great coat.

“If you have something you need to discuss with me, _Supreme Leader_ ,” and this time the title sounded like _insubordinate, irritating underling_ , like Kylo was one of his minions, failing to conform to expectations. “Then you are welcome to send a message to my aide, and set up a meeting time. While I am ever at your service,” and his tone made that sound like a lie, somehow, a given impossibility, “I am incredibly busy.”

“You’re always busy, Hux, that doesn’t mean you don’t have time to talk to me,” Kylo hissed, temper flaring up.

Hux looked up at him, expression sharp to the point of being cutting.

“My time is a valuable commodity, and I have many duties to attend to,” Hux responded. “As such, no, I do not have time to cater to your every _whim_.”

“Well, in that case, it seems to me, _Grand Marshall Hux_ ,” and Kylo did everything in his power to pour as much of his frustration and disappointment into the title, “That you have been _negligent_ in some of your duties _as a husband.”_

It was only the dead silence on the bridge that followed which allowed Kylo to realize that he might have said that last bit quite a bit louder than he intended.

The other thing that made him realize that he must have was the blood leached look of absolute _fury_ on Hux’s face.

Kylo felt his own face drain of color at the expression undiluted rage the Grand Marshal sported. Not a single other person on the bridge appeared the be breathing.

“Get off my bridge,” Hux whispered through clenched teeth.

Aware that there wasn’t a single thing he could do to amend the situation, Kylo fled.

 

* * *

 

Kylo makes a point to make himself scarce from any place Hux might be for the next three days. However, he knows he cannot keep this up indefinitely. Other than the fact that the part of him which took those vows all those years ago desperately wants to apologize to Hux and make things right between them, what had been a mere possibility of shipwide scuttlebutt is now a certainty, and Kylo needs to make sure that everything is squared away with regards to potential succession in the command structure and what rights and duties Hux is to perform in his role as spouse of the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

So, reluctantly, he makes his way to Hux’s quarters. Kylo is dragging his feet, mostly metaphorically, but with every step he takes, he can feel the weight of his misconduct settle more heavily on his shoulders. It is impossible to see a version where this conversation results in any of the things Kylo hopes to achieve, if there is any way to make things right between them.

He hits the panel next to the door, letting the chime announce him.

After what feels like a small eternity (but can’t, in truth, be more than a minute), the door slides open to reveal the Grand Marshal, his expression sour, and his hair starting to come unstuck in clumps, divested of his jacket, shirt sleeves rolled slightly to reveal the knobs of his wrists.

“I will allow you in, if only to avoid another scene like the one you caused on the bridge,” Hux says, without moving to allow Kylo to enter. Kylo nods, slightly morosely, in response and Hux steps aside.

“I’m so sorry about what happened on the bridge,” Kylo mumbles when the door shuts behind them and they are standing in the middle of the sitting area of Hux’s rooms.

“What, can you explain to me, possessed you to think the bridge was an appropriate venue to have that conversation?” Hux is scowling and his arms are crossed. He hasn’t started yelling, yet, and he is actually asking a question, so Kylo feels a small flicker of hope in his chest, that maybe this time things will work out.

“I,” he starts, “I didn’t really think, I just needed to talk to you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Hux says. “But that is not sufficient. The youngest recruit in the storm trooper program could have told you that was a bad idea. You are _Supreme Leader_ .”  
“Armitage,” he tries, pleadingly.

“Absolutely not. Get out,” Hux’s tone brokers no argument and Kylo turns and sees himself out.

Standing dejectedly in the hallway, Kylo has a horrifying realization. He was playing his father’s role in the countless marital squabbles he witnessed between his parents in his youth. Han would disappear for whatever reason, on whatever business of his own, and Leia would fret and worry while he was gone, but the second he returned she would turn to stone. He would plead and debase himself with apologies and she would hear none of it.

At various points he would pull out a cajoling, “Princess,” not unlike Kylo’s own attempt with Hux’s given name, and she would turn her face away from him, usually to hide a smile. They always worked it out, but then, they were never serious about their disputes, anyway. Not to mention, Kylo thinks with a little note of vindication, his mother had nothing on Hux in terms of sheer indomitable frigidity. Once Hux decides he is opposed to something the very fabric of space-time itself would have to be rewoven before he would change his mind.

 

* * *

 

At some point, Kylo realizes that talking about this is getting him nowhere. Between the two of them Hux is the, well, not the _poet,_ per se, but the one with a gift for words. His speeches are always magnificent and Kylo thinks fondly on the process of rehearsing them. The little games they would play where Kylo’s job was to attempt to distract Hux while he recited them. If it ever resulted in Hux fucking him while declaiming the glories of the First Order and their inevitable subjugation of the Galaxy to their will, well, no one had to know about it. Besides, Kylo feels that Hux’s speeches had a certain panache to them when the main points where being punctuated by Hux’s cock fucking up against his prostate to underscore their importance. Although, he finds himself thinking, he isn’t sure he’d like for Hux to implement that particular rhetorical tool with anyone else. No, it’s best that it remain between the two of them.

The point is: Kylo Ren is a man of action and becoming Supreme Leader hadn’t changed that significantly, and certainly not when it comes to this. And so, Kylo decides to abandon words all together.

It has been another long standard rotation cycle and Hux has been looking particularly wan around the edges, even more brittle and underslept than usual. Kylo knows the Grand Marshal has trouble falling asleep, incapable of turning off the part of his mind that is constantly reviewing the list of responsibilities he keeps tallied in his head. Kylo used to suggest that he try listing off the storm trooper battalions (telling him to count hoskas didn’t seem like it would get a positive response), but the fastest way to get Hux’s brain to turn off and for him to relax was always an orgasm. Kylo doubts his Grand Marshal is getting those anywhere other than his own hand (and probably not even there, knowing Hux’s tendency to ignore his own needs and desires) and _that_ is something he knows how to do. He’d once been in expert at making Hux come and he was fairly certain that it isn’t the kind of skill that that is likely to erode with time, regardless of how much practice oneit is or isn’t getting.

He punches his personal code into the panel that grants access to Hux’s quarters and he locks the door behind himself with his personal override code, making it impossible for anyone to interrupt them. Hux looks up at him, confusion and irritation warring across his face.

“What—”

Kylo doesn’t bother to answer Hux’s half-formed question. He doesn’t even let him finish asking it, instead spinning Hux’s chair and sinking to his knees in front of him. Words have served him ill up to this point, and so he has decided to abandon them altogether. Instead, he brings his face down and nuzzles at the crotch of Hux’s jodhpurs. The fabric is purposefully loose between the legs, something which Kylo always feels is a great tragedy, given the elegant shape of Hux’s legs and ass. Here, it works in his favor, allowing him to bunch the fabric up and run his nose along the shape of Hux’s cock. He is still soft, but Kylo is certain that the muscle memory (or at least the cognitive pathways that had been established early on in their acquaintance) associated with Kylo on his knees in front of the Grand Marshal, and the dry spell Hux is almost certainly in the middle of will do the work of getting Hux to liven up.

He is not disappointed. He can feel Hux shifting under his mouth, getting hard under the nudges and touches of his nose and cheeks and chin and mouth. He runs his hands up along Hux’s thighs, where they had settled to make sure they stayed spread enough to leave him room to work. He undoes the belt that is cinched at Hux’s waist and starts pulling apart the clasps that hold the uniform jacket together. When the black shirt Hux wears beneath it is revealed, Kylo gets to work on the fastenings of his pants. Finally, Kylo can get his open mouth on the now hard shape of Hux through his underwear. He pants against it, surprised to find how much he has missed this, the smell and feel of Hux pressed close to his face. He runs the flat of his tongue along the ridge of Hux’s cock and seeks the head of it out, wrapping his lips around it as best as he can through the fabric that still encases it, and sucks, letting his spit slick his tongue where it’s pressed against the shape of it. He moans slightly, in the back of his throat, astounded at the feeling of excitement and contentment that runs through him as he prepares to set to work getting Hux off.

He brings his still-gloved hands up, again, sliding his leather clad fingers against the soft skin of Hux’s stomach, enjoying the contrast of the blackness of his gloves against sun-starved pallor, disappointed he can’t feel the heat of Hux’s skin, but it doesn’t matter when he pulls the briefs down, using his left hand to pull out Hux’s flushed cock, sliding the elastic of the underwear under Hux’s balls and bringing his mouth down to taste.

He sets to work, sucking the hot length of Hux’s cock into his mouth, laving it with tongue, feeling the soft skin and the tight hardness beneath it. As the head brushes against his soft palate he lets saliva flood his mouth, feeling the spaces between them get slicker, the slight dribble of spit at the corner of his mouth. He pulls back, and tastes the bitter salt flavor of Hux’s precome on the back of his tongue. He bobs his head up and down, trying to work as much of Hux as possible. He can’t help the little muffled moans and noises of pleasure that creep up out of his chest, getting caught in his throat, stopped by the fullness of Hux in his mouth.

“You're absolutely impossible, insufferable. I hate you,” Hux pants out. “Stars, Ren. _Your mouth._ ” His hand comes down to cup Kylo’s cheek. Kylo looks up at him, only to find that Hux has his head tipped back, eyes screwed shut as his hips make little aborted twitches forward, trying to get more of the _hot_ , _wet_ , _tight_ of Kylo’s mouth around his cock. He can feel his facial muscles try to smile but it is impossible with his mouth full and his lips tight around the soft head of Hux’s dick. He slurps obscenely, letting the sound fly out into the room around them, to join the heavy noise of Hux’s breath, and slides down pushing past the barrier at the top of his throat and choking himself. He pulls back and pants, his mouth open, moving his hand up and down the shaft, the head of Hux’s cock pressing into the flat of his tongue while he catches his breath.

Hux lets out a little moan of frustration, rolling his head on his neck before he looks down at Kylo, his green eyes dark and hot, despite the way exhaustion has etched itself in around them.

“Don’t stop now,” Hux says. It should have been a plea, but nevertheless sounds more like a demand. “I’m so close.”

“Stand up,” Kylo begs, voice rough. “Hux, stand up.”

Hux rolls his eyes, and does so, his pants falling around his ankles, catching slightly on the tops of his boots. He leans against the desk and Kylo shuffles forward on his knees until he is nearly pressed against Hux’s lean thighs. He leans forward and gets his mouth on Hux’s cock once more.

He applies himself with renewed vigor. If Hux is still lucid enough to maintain that evenness of tone, able to roll his eyes in anything but blinding pleasure, he isn’t doing his job, and if he isn’t doing his job, he won’t be able to convince Hux of the ingenuity of returning to this arrangement on a permanent basis.

He focuses mostly on the top of the shaft, laving attention on the head and pressing his tongue up alongside the vein at the bottom, pushing on that spot just below the crown that always seems to get a little twitch out of his commander. He busies his hand with the rest of the shaft, even bringing it down a few times to play with Hux’s balls, rolling them, spreading the spit from his chin, from where it dripped onto his fingers across the soft skin of his sack. His other hand he wraps around Hux’s hip, feeling the bone of it dig into his palm. He brings that same hand around, until it rests at the top of Hux’s ass, and runs his middle finger over the Grand Marshal’s crack, finally dipping his finger in to press against the entrance to his body. That tips Hux over the edge and he convulses, his hips losing their rhythm, pressing up against Kylo’s hand where it grips the base of his cock as he spills in Kylo’s mouth, flooding his tongue with the hot and bitter taste of him.

Kylo can’t resist petting Hux’s dick a little as he pulls off with an obscene slurp, swallowing the come and spit that is gathered in his mouth. He feels satisfied in a way he’d forgotten, as he looks up at Hux’s flushed features, the way his chest is heaving with exertion, the red spreading down his neck and sternum, one of the Grand Marshal’s hands comes up to rub over his face as he tries to regain his bearings.

“Well, come on,” Hux says, pushing against one of Kylo’s shoulders, until he shuffles out of his personal space. He bends down, pulling up his pants and holding them up at his hips, before walking in the direction of his bedroom. “You might as well make your case.”

He looks back over his shoulder at Kylo, who, still sex-stupid and hard in his own pants, doesn’t immediately realize he is supposed to follow him. When he puts two and two together, he scrambles to his feet and follows after Hux, loosening his clothes as he makes his way into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

After, having thoroughly distracted themselves from any sort of discussion of Kylo’s case in favor of their marital agreement, they lie side by side, sweat cooling on their skin.

“Was that it? Was the concluding argument the orgasm or something else?” Hux asks, still breathing a little hard.

Kylo rolls onto his side to glare at him, but he’s too fucked out, body singing with endorphins, and he can’t really manage to muster more than a disapproving pout.

“No, that was just the opening salvo,” he replies. “It was the only way to get you to relax enough to listen to anything I have to say, not to mention it’ll remind you of what you’ve been missing these last two years.”

He waggles his eyebrows at Hux who gives him a pitying look and then rolls his eyes.

“Well, then,” Hux says, voice arch. “State your case, that it may be evaluated.”

Kylo knows that for Hux to be this willing to engage him, he’s already won the battle, now he’s got to make sure that this is the turning point in the war of attrition they’ve been engaged in for the last however many years. Finally, they will be as one, the way they were intended to be.

He leans in close and presses his lips to the swell of Hux’s bicep, half-way down his upper arm.

“Well, first of all, it would be a total pain to file all the paperwork for a divorce,” he says, and moves up to press another kiss to the bone of his shoulder. “Also, I’m pretty sure that the Order has a period of mandated counseling between officers who wish to dissolve their marriage. Something about limiting the number of them that go through with it, and keeping ill-feeling from poisoning the command structure.”

Kylo pulls back to look at Hux, who is looking up at the ceiling.

“Say,” he adds, a speculative tone in his voice. “Weren’t _you_ the one who added that clause into the personnel conduct manual overhaul, about seven years ago? I remember hearing everyone complaining about how hard you lobbied for it during the meetings.”

Kylo can’t be sure, his view of Hux’s face somewhat obstructed by the way Hux has his head tipped back, and he is loathe to get far enough away from Hux’s skin to get a better look, but he thinks a slight flush steals across the Grand Marshal’s cheeks.

“Furthermore, after what happened on the bridge,” and he knows it’s a gamble to bring that up, but hopes that Hux’s endorphin rush will have taken the edge off his anger. “The ship, and perhaps the rest of the Order and its command structure, are sure to have taken an interest in the state of our personal affairs.”

Hux scowls, and Kylo talks quickly to placate him before his disgruntlement can turn into real anger.

“I know, I know,” he says. “It’s my fault they even know about it. But the fact of the matter is that they do, and we have to consider that as we evaluate any future course of action.”

Hux sends him a calculating look and sighs, but waves the hand that isn’t trapped between their bodies as a sign for Kylo to continue.

“In the interest of avoiding their _prurient_ interest in our personal life and any misguided attempts to use this supposed break between us to attempt to overthrow our command, I think it best that we retain, if nothing else, the appearance of marital bliss.”

He leans in to press a kiss below Hux’s collar bone, and when he pulls back, Hux is looking at him intently.

“You seem awfully confident with your use of the first person plural,” he says. “You haven’t gone completely ‘round the bend and started using the Royal We, have you?”

Kylo laughs, despite himself.

“Hux,” he replies. “Not once, since taking on the mantle of Supreme Leader, have I lied to you about how important you are to the success of the First Order. At first, I was afraid you would stand against me. But to be perfectly honest, I’d be lost without your leadership and your guidance.”

Kylo pauses for a moment, and bites his lip. The only thing worse than bringing up past humiliations to Hux is mentioning anything remotely approaching sentimentality, but again, he goes for broke.

“Nevermind that not only could I not do it alone, I have no interest in trying. Never have.”

Hux, ever unpredictable, again manages to defy Kylo’s expectations. His expression is one that on anyone else might be called “soft” but somehow still retains the fierce, reserved quality that defines him. He leans in and presses his lips to Kylo’s, sucking brief and dirty on his bottom lip before pulling away.

“Is that all?” he asks, trying for arch, and falling short, his tone too warm.

“I’m fairly certain,” Kylo whispers, stretching his neck up to keep their faces close together, addressing Hux’s cheek more directly than the man himself. “That being the Supreme Leader’s spouse is one step closer to being Emperor.”

Hux rolls over on top of him, in a quick and surprisingly strong motion, laying Kylo out on the mattress.

“In that case,” he says, his grin feral. “I accept your terms, _husband_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes much to the time I spent in the Merlin fandom (especially the bit about Hux saying "Supreme Leader" and it not sounding like a title of deference. I can no longer recall the fic in question, but maybe you remember it). 
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://persephassax.tumblr.com). I post too much kylux and not enough anything else.


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